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126
DEATH AND THE MAN.
THE MAN.
I know the gifts you bring—
With your awful veilèd brows—
A pall for covering;
A deep and narrow house,
Where many a creeping thing
With the worms shall hold carouse.
With your awful veilèd brows—
A pall for covering;
A deep and narrow house,
Where many a creeping thing
With the worms shall hold carouse.
I know you, as you stand,
For a fleshless skeleton,
With an hour-glass in your hand,
And its seconds all but run:
Oh, a sad life with its sand
Runs out quickly and is done!
For a fleshless skeleton,
With an hour-glass in your hand,
And its seconds all but run:
Oh, a sad life with its sand
Runs out quickly and is done!
127
Friend, unveil your face to me,
For I fear you not at all—
Fear no horror I can see,
Who have thirsted for your call,
With sick longing, patiently,
Hearkened for your footstep's fall.
For I fear you not at all—
Fear no horror I can see,
Who have thirsted for your call,
With sick longing, patiently,
Hearkened for your footstep's fall.
As the young bird on a day
Left the egg's dishonoured shell,
Sunned his wings in bloomy May,
Piped most sweet his joy to tell:
But the shell was cast away;
On a dunghill it befell.
Left the egg's dishonoured shell,
Sunned his wings in bloomy May,
Piped most sweet his joy to tell:
But the shell was cast away;
On a dunghill it befell.
So my body earth to earth
Shall return for evermore;
While my soul, in second birth,
Shall spread sunny wings and soar
To a new May's golden mirth,
Far beyond the salt sea's shore.
Shall return for evermore;
While my soul, in second birth,
Shall spread sunny wings and soar
To a new May's golden mirth,
Far beyond the salt sea's shore.
DEATH.
As you will it, look on me!
Am I loathly, terrible,
A grisly shape to see—
I, the angel Azrael?
In mine own fair far country,
My brothers love me well.
Am I loathly, terrible,
128
I, the angel Azrael?
In mine own fair far country,
My brothers love me well.
My brothers hold me fair;
In mine own far radiant Heaven,
By God's feet, my place is there,
Where the spirits who are seven,
With flame-lilies in their hair,
Bow the brow from dawn to even.
In mine own far radiant Heaven,
By God's feet, my place is there,
Where the spirits who are seven,
With flame-lilies in their hair,
Bow the brow from dawn to even.
Yea, I sit below the throne,
Weaving starry robe and wreath
While the marvellous years go on:
“Now, my messenger,” He saith,
“Lo, the soul I made Mine own,
Bring it home to me, sweet Death!”
Weaving starry robe and wreath
While the marvellous years go on:
“Now, my messenger,” He saith,
“Lo, the soul I made Mine own,
Bring it home to me, sweet Death!”
Oh, the hills were like clear glass,
When I left mine own country—
The sun all white gold was;
But the shades from greenwood tree
Made cool places on the grass;
And your dead love spake to me.
When I left mine own country—
The sun all white gold was;
But the shades from greenwood tree
Made cool places on the grass;
And your dead love spake to me.
129
She knows you will come home
When the pale sunset is sweet,
Sailing o'er the ocean foam;
She is listening for the beat
Of my wings that tell we come:
Nay—your hands about my feet!
When the pale sunset is sweet,
Sailing o'er the ocean foam;
She is listening for the beat
Of my wings that tell we come:
Nay—your hands about my feet!
Oh, I lift you up heart-high,
On my breast I take your head;
We are flying, you and I,
Past the moon, and the sun's bed.
Do you fear me as we fly?
Is it bitter to be dead?
On my breast I take your head;
We are flying, you and I,
Past the moon, and the sun's bed.
Do you fear me as we fly?
Is it bitter to be dead?
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